The big news about Ozempic this week is that there’s some evidence it helps with addiction. More studies need to be conducted, but anecdotally, some folks have simply and effortlessly stopped obsessive online shopping or drinking alcohol while on Ozempic. Because Ozempic works on the brain, it shouldn’t be surprising that it isn’t merely about suppressing appetite.
In the popular consciousness, folks often speak of having “a sugar addiction,” but there’s little evidence that sugar is literally addictive in the way alcohol and some other substances and activities are. Yes, we can become dependent on the “sugar high,” but not in a way that makes it physically difficult to quit. So what do we mean when we claim to be addicted to sugar? (And yes, I’ve made that claim myself.)
I've written in previous newsletters about sweets providing some of the only bodily pleasure I experience on a daily basis, since chronic fatigue and chronic pain mean that I’m usually trying to ignore and suppress the messages my body sends me. (For a different way of thinking about the demands of a body with chronic illness, check out this insightful piece by Jay Vera Summer.) But I also know that I tend to consume sweets past the point of diminishing returns, when my slightly queasy stomach overshadows the pleasure on my tastebuds. At that point, it’s hard not to think of my sweet tooth as an addiction, with comparisons to alcoholism fairly easy.
I grew up, as surely some of you did, in a household where sweets were associated with celebration. Just recently, I’ve been missing my sister—who I lost to cancer over three years ago—and the times we’d go out for ice cream, sitting outside in the summer sun. The layering of taste and smell with memory means that eating ice cream can be the closest I come to feeling that joy again, the easy chitchat of sisters enjoying a treat together. No doubt I’m not the only one using sweets to try to feel positive emotions. I’ve never understood movies portraying people eating ice cream from the carton while crying over a break-up; if I’m feeling really badly about something that has happened recently, I can barely eat anything.
Nevertheless, I keep thinking about the rats who, given Ozempic, would take a prudent bite of chocolate and then go back to eating their healthy pellets. Surely that effect isn’t just about the rats “feeling full.” Impulse control has to be part of what’s affected by this drug.
I read a brief response to the Atlantic article that broke the news about Ozempic possibly treating addiction in which the writer worried that “good obsessions,” like a writer or artist’s obsession to create, could be squashed by this or a similar drug. I remember when that was a concern about anti-depressants, and yet most of the writers I know are taking or have taken an anti-depressant. I’m not dismissing this person’s concern, though; thinking hard about what makes us human is essential in this time of AI programs touting the ability come up with art and writing on any topic you desire. We need to balance the likelihood that some uses of Ozempic reinforce toxic cultural prejudices—a major reason I’m so ambivalent about my use of it—against the possibility that this drug can make a big difference in the quality of life for individuals.
Have I felt any reduction in cravings or obsessive behaviors? Nope. Either the “sweets as bodily pleasure” thing is ruled by a different part of the brain than addiction/obsession, or I’m not on a high enough dose yet (I’m up to 1mg now). Or maybe my brain isn’t wired to be affected that way by Ozempic; we all know that not every drug works for each person. In fact, I’m feeling discouraged about the whole enterprise, because despite getting back on generic Dexilant (a medication for acid reflux), I have constant, painful gas. Yes, I’m down 8 pounds in 7 weeks, but that may be due to my stomach hurting most of the time. Gastrointestinal side effects of Ozempic are supposed to resolve within a couple of weeks, according to Dr. Google. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can take this additional pain, on top of my ME/CFS symptoms. So if anyone has any suggestions that might help, I’m all ears.
Bummer about the side effects AND the not erasing sweet cravings. Hmm. Maybe the experiment will prove this is not for you? Still think you are brave to try, Katie!!